Rebirth
by Lina Inverse
Summary: Sequel to My Angel. After the events of My Angel, Tooya does some soul-searching and uncovers his traumatic childhood. Finished! R for language, violence, non-graphic rape
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: If you haven't read My Angel, you can understand and appreciate this story, but I still reccomend that you read My Angel first. And certainly don't read this then My Angel, because this spoils almost all of My Angel.**  
  
I raped her. What the hell have I done? It was only reasonable for her to want to break up with me after what I did to her, and then I go and rape her?!  
  
What does it matter that she's a stupid little slut? No matter how stupid she is, what I did was unexcusable.  
  
I sigh, a deep, re-energizing sigh. I know what I need now. I need help, to make sure I never do this again.  
  
With this in mind, I walk to Student Health. Conveniently, a whole rack of pamphlets covers mental health. I skim through. Depression, Zoloft, depression, suicide, depression, bipolar, depression, Prozac, depression, anxiety, depression... For a moment my eyes waver, and through the corner of my eye, I see the words "domestic violence." I turn to this section, dwarfed by the thousands of pamphlets on depression. I pick out every pamphlet that interests me, then toss them in my bag as I head back to my room.  
  
A full hour's reading results in approximately five sentences about rapists themselves. And three are on incest. But nevertheless, I get what I looked for. "If you've been raped, get professional help to regain control of your life. Studies show that the majority of rapists have been raped before."  
  
**Author's note: This is actually true.**  
  
My mouth falls open at those words. Have I... been raped? My body goes deathly cold. First, my hands lose their grip on the paper, which slowly floats towards the ground. Second, I fall flat on my side. Luckily, I had been reading sitting up in my bed, and my matress cushions my fall.  
  
But almost instantly, I regain control of myself, and head back to Student Health, determined to find out the truth about me. I can't admit to what I've done, but these places do offer confidentiality. I can say I heavily considered it.  
  
A cute blond lady of perhaps twenty stands at the front desk. She offers me a smile, asking "How may I help you?" The neckline of her shirt sinks dangerously low, exposing more breast than I care to see. What a fucking idiot. Just yesterday, I raped my girlfriend, then the very next female I see dresses this suggestively!  
  
"Yes," I say, the words croaking out of my dry mouth. I just notice now that I haven't had a drop of water in twenty hours. "I'm looking for a therapist."  
  
"Depression?" she asks, forced concern crossing her lips.  
  
"No. I..." I almost lose my composure again, but manage to go on. "I've had some thoughts about hurting people- not killing, mind you- and I need help stopping them."  
  
She smiles, as if written in a script. "I'm glad you're concerned about others, and looking for help." Her voice rises all too high in an attempt to cover up the absence of sympathy. "Let's see, Dr. Kagami has an opening tomorrow at two. Are you available then?" I nod. "Great!" she tells me, her false enthusiasm grating in my ears. "I'll schedule an appointment for you then, and you can get to know him and see if he's right for you. Let me just write that down for you." She scribbles the time down on Dr. Kagami's business card, then hands it to me, flashing a wide smile and thrusting her bust forward, right under my eyes. I close my eyes, pretending to blink, to avoid the sight. Is she just begging to become another Aya? Upon the receival of the card, I mutter a flat "thank you" and head out the door.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Tooya?" I lift my head from Time magazine, and turn it in the direction of the voice. A thirty-something man, very professional-looking, with a clean-cut suit, black hair, and glasses to match, looks at me.  
  
I stand, walk over to him, and he shakes my hand warmly. "You must be Dr. Kagami," I say.  
  
He nods, and leads me to a small, cozy room. He motions for me to sit. I choose a comfortable couch of black leather.  
  
The doctor sits across from me. "Have you ever been in therapy before?" I shake my head, then he proceeds to describe how it works. It's very boring. I'm here to help you, blah, blah, blah, by law I must keep confidentiality unless I think you are putting your life, or someone else's life in danger, blah, blah, blah.  
  
Finally, he picks up my files, and instantly a puzzled look crosses his face. "You didn't give me your last name."  
  
I sigh. "I don't remember it. I don't remember anything from before about a year ago. I suppose my last name is somewhere in my files, but I haven't bothered to look."  
  
"I'm going to need it before your next session. Please look it up."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Good. Now we can proceed with more important business. Am I correct in assuming that you came here because of your concerns about your amnesia?"  
  
"No. I... Well, I've thought about hurting my ex-girlfriend, and want to stop before I actually do anything." I fight to conceal my emotions beneath my expression. Kagami doesn't seem to notice.  
  
Kagami nods, and scribbles it down on his yellow legal pad. "Has she done anything to make you angry?"  
  
"Well, she broke up with me."  
  
"Was she important to you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then why is it such a big deal?"  
  
"Cause she claims I used her for her body. I mean, she comes up to me just begging for a physical relationship! What was I supposed to think?"  
  
Kagami pauses. "A lot of times girls do give that ambiguous message, don't they? But listen, Tooya. It doesn't matter what she thinks of you. She's in the past. Let her go, since she wasn't that important to you anyway, and learn from both of your mistakes."  
  
Damn. It would be such good advice if I hadn't actually done anything to her. But I've got to play along with him, and let out what truth I can. "Well... There was one thing about her that really intrigued me. She's an artist, one of the best I've ever known- well, maybe not, since she's the only artist I actually do know. But that's besides the point. She made this one painting that I absolutely love."  
  
Kagami writes more in his pad, then looks up to say, "What intrigued you so much about her painting? What was it about?"  
  
I pause. "I... I don't know. It's of a purple-haired maiden soaring through the sky... But I don't know what intrigues me about it. She... She almost looks... familiar..."  
  
Kagami writes this down as well. "We're out of time for today. If you would like to come back to see me again--"  
  
"I would."  
  
"Well, then." He goes to his calendar and picks out times. "Actually, next week I have an opening. Same day, same time."  
  
"I can make it."  
  
"Good. I'll see you again then. And don't forget about your personal information. You'll need that plenty more in the future."  
  
I head out, wondering just why Aya's painting intrigued me. 


	2. Chapter 2

I've been seeing Dr. Kagami for two months now. I haven't really accomplished much by way of recovering my memory, but I have quelled my anger at Aya a bit. Really, she was only doing what would be expected after she just found out that I'd been lying about love. I can't believe I actually raped her... But I can't change what I did back then. Dr. Kagami's really helped me move on. By continuing to live without hurting Aya, I'm more than making up for my thoughts. I still haven't told him that I actually acted on those thoughts.  
  
I walk home from class as usual. The weather is warming up, even though it's only February. Winter is ending early. Twenty yards down the sidewalk, a form-fitting baby blue sweatshirt catches my attention. I'm such a fucking pervert. But within a split second, I know she's Aya. Not until she's walked past me do I realize that I even saw her face. And then I realize I've been standing still, my mouth agape.  
  
"I put food on the table doing what I do, and that's all that matters. It's none of your fucking business what I do at night," says my mom.  
  
...Says my mom?! Since when did my mom go to my college? More importantly, since when did I even remember anything about my mother?  
  
"Tooya!"  
  
The shout comes from my best friend Alec, who got in on a full scholarship and is breezing through college on his way to a biology major. I can see him getting all sorts of government grants for his work as a geneticist.  
  
"What's up?" he asks.  
  
He must have seen me with my mouth wide open. "My ex-girlfriend. We haven't seen each other since we broke up two months ago."  
  
"Ah." Alec leans against a tree. "You don't think it's time to move on? You always say she wasn't that important, but you haven't shown any sign of wanting another girlfriend."  
  
He doesn't know about the rape either. "Nah. My next relationship'll probably turn out like crap anyway. I've got better things to worry about."  
  
"Damn it, Tooya! What's happening with you? When you first came here, you were such a girl magnet!"  
  
"I was?"  
  
Alec sighs. He knows about my insomnia. "Yeah. You were."  
  
"Alec." My voice is serious.  
  
"Oh, right. I'm sorry." I had told Alec early on that I didn't want to hear about my past. I figured I had to have been through something traumatic to have lost my memory just like that, and the last thing I'd wanted was to remember that. But now, with that sudden appearance of my mom in my mind, coupled with the fact that I'm in therapy, I feel prepared to hear it.  
  
"No, no, that's not it. I want you... To tell me about my past."  
  
Alec smiles, as if he's been waiting for this moment all year. Hell, he probably has been. He'd been so concerned last year when I didn't remember his name, and has made it clear that he thought it was in my best interest to know about myself. "Sure." I can hear his genuine smile. "Let's go get ice cream- it's gonna be a bit shocking, so it might be better to have something comforting around."  
  
I nod, and we walk to the campus ice cream parlor.  
  
"All right, Tooya. I'll start with the basics. Like your full name--"  
  
"I already know it."  
  
"Okay. You came from a small oceanside city. You've always loved to swim, and you were on the swim team in high school."  
  
"That sounds fitting. I still love water."  
  
"You won a lot of awards for swimming... I can't remember which ones."  
  
"Do I still have the medals?"  
  
Alec sighs. "I... I don't know."  
  
"Well, my mom probably has them." Alec's expresssion instantly turns somber. "What... What is it about my mom?"  
  
"I..." A tear starts welling up in Alec's eye, and he tries to hide it. "That's pretty serious..."  
  
"I want to know."  
  
"Wouldn't you rather hear about everything else?"  
  
I shake my head. "I have a memory of my mother. It just came to me right before you talked to me today."  
  
"Really? What is it?"  
  
"She said, 'I put food on the table doing what I do, and that's all that matters. It's none of your fucking business what I do at night.' What did she do, anyway?"  
  
Alec inhales, slowly, heavily. "You might not rest so well with it."  
  
This only sparks my interest further. "What was she? A criminal or something?"  
  
"No... Well, yes."  
  
I remain silent, anticipating his next words.  
  
"Your mother... She was a prostitute." 


	3. Chapter 3

"You're joking, right? Right?!" I'm practically screaming at Alec.  
  
"No." His expression remains somber. "I'm sorry."  
  
It takes all the control I have to stop myself from beating the shit out of him. "Damn it! My mom was a fucking whore and my dad was probably some pervert who paid for her sick little ass that only saw her once!" And I'm even worse.  
  
"Tooya..." Alec's words fail to do anything but snap me back to reality- a reality in which everyone in the ice cream parlor is staring at me, wide-mouthed. Shit. I didn't even realize that I was telling the world that I'm a fucking bastard.  
  
I slam a fist into my ice cream cone, splattering it over the table. Without a word, I turn around and stomp off.  
  
"She was a prostitute." The words echo in my head, growing louder and louder, until Alec's voice screams it to me in my head. "SHE WAS A PROSTITUTE!!!!!!"  
  
She... was... Was... Not is... My mom... Dead?  
  
I race back to the ice cream parlor and find Alec wiping up the mess I made all over the table. "Is my mom dead?" I yell at him.  
  
Alec nods silently. I turn around and leave, slowly. I plod heavily, slowly, the entire way back to my dormitory, where I lie in my bed and cry.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The clock reads five fifteen A.M. I must've fallen asleep. What was I thinking about, anyway?  
  
Right. My mom was a fucking prostitute. And now she's dead.  
  
And I feel like shit. I walk into the bathroom, throw off my clothes, and turn the shower on full blast.   
  
All right- let's get this straight in my mind. I have a dead whore for a mom. I imagine her appearance. Full red lips, a soft, gently sloping nose, silky light-brown wisps of hair. Her mouth opens, and she says, "I put food on the table doing what I do, and that's all that matters. It's none of your fucking business what I do at night." Piercing eyes of brown- so piercing that they're almost yellow- glare at me from below thick bright blue eyeshadow and carefully plucked eyebrows, slanted downwards in rage. Her forehead wrinkles at the nose. I tremble involuntarily. Then the open hand, with rings on each finger, descends toward my face.  
  
And then it stops. Right. My mom is dead. She can't hit me now.  
  
Wait. So my mom was a whore, she's dead, AND she slapped me. Shit, my childhood must have sucked. No wonder I turned out to be a rapist. My mind returns to those pamphlets I read on domestic violence.  
  
Damn it, mom. It's your fault Aya was raped. She's such a good girl, and then you go and fucking rape her! I could've been a good kid. If you hadn't beat me then fucking died, I'd be successful. I'd bring you out of prostitution. Hell, that's probably why I went to college in the first place. So I could get your sorry ass out of your dirty business. So you could go around telling people how your bastard son gave you a life you didn't deserve.  
  
You sicken me.  
  
Bitch.  
  
The water runs cold. How long have I been in the shower? I shut off the water and slowly dry myself, letting myself reflect.  
  
My mother really was very beautiful. She must have made a great prostitute. Ugh. What am I thinking, great prostitute? It's as if I'm one of those sick perverts who paid her ass. Successful prostitute. She was of an average height, thin but not scrawny, and anything but flat.  
  
Her face, though overly made-up, was of perfect shape and complexion. Pale, smooth skin, covered in foundation and blush, gently formed her small, delicate nose and chin and tapered into a triangular chin. Thin eyebrows topped heavy purple eyeshadow, and black eyeliner accented her soft eyes.  
  
My mother's looks were deceiving, to say the least. At first glance, you'd think she was a model, not a prostitute. Why she wasn't, I'll never know. Then you'd expect her to be a kind parent- possibly a good one, but more likely one who overemphasized her childrens' physical appearance- but nevertheless, one who would never dream of hitting her own son.  
  
Then I think to myself, how do I know what she looks like in such detail? I swear, I've seen her before. I laugh to myself. She's my fucking mother; of course I've seen her before! What I meant was I swear I've seen her since I lost my memories. But that can't be possible! She died before I lost them...  
  
For some reason, my mother reminds me a bit of Aya. They do look a bit alike, but Aya's youthful features: big blue eyes, laughing smile, blond hair, and a slight tan contrast those of my mother. Aya's painting actually looks more like my mother than Aya herself does, purple hair and all.  
  
The face of the lady in Aya's painting looks exactly like my mother's face. Every feature, from her forehead to her chin, matched perfectly.  
  
It couldn't be all a coincidence. Why did Aya paint my mother? Did she know about my past all along? Or maybe she only knew what my mother looked like, and nothing else. But Aya didn't know me until this year... It couldn't be. Perhaps Aya just saw my mother one day, and thought she looked like an angel and decided to paint her?  
  
I think back, trying to remember if I'd ever seen Aya in my past. Did she and my mother have a connection? 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I know, I know. It's been a LONG time. I just haven't been writing that much lately, but trust me, I'm not abandoning this story (unlike a certain other one... coughForevercough) Anyway, thanks for the support ^_^  
  
I am surprised at how much I can remember.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was just another day of Miss Shuro's third grade class. As usual, I sat near the front of the class, next to my best friend Alec.  
  
* * * * *  
  
So me and Alec go way back, huh? Here I was, assuming we'd met in college. I laugh. I should have known, considering how much Alec knows of me.  
  
* * * * *  
  
An unfamiliar woman stood at the front of the classroom with our teacher. I raised my hand.  
  
"Yes, Tooya?" Miss Shuro asked sweetly.  
  
"Who's she?"  
  
Miss Shuro cleared her throat. "This is a special guest here to talk about her career as an artist. Everybody, let's say good morning to Yuuki's mom, Mrs. Urakawa!"  
  
"Good morning," we all chimed.  
  
"Hello," said Mrs. Urakawa. "You've probably all been asked what you want to do when you grew up. What are some of the things you want to do?"  
  
Various students shouted out answers, including a "scientist" from Alec.  
  
"Most of you will change your mind about what you want to do, but some of you will end up doing exactly what you said just now. When I was your age, I loved to draw and wanted to be an artist, and here I am as an artist.  
  
"There are a lot of different kinds of artists: drawers, sculptors, animators, and of course, painters like me. And there are also a lot of different things you can do with your art. You can teach, you can make movies and posters, you can make art to sell. I sell my art."  
  
Promptly, a tacky poster saying "A little attitude makes a big difference" fell from the brick wall, revealing a hole. Plaster and rusty pipes filled the space. As if on cue, every student turned to look at it and burst out laughing. Don't get me wrong-- we weren't laughing about the hole in the wall, because there were several around the school building-- we were simply laughing because a poster had suddenly fallen. Miss Shuro silently prompted Mrs. Urakawa to continue speaking as she put the poster back up.  
  
Mrs. Urukawa continued as if nothing had happened, "On a typical day, after I take Yuuki to school, I sell my art to a variety of small businesses around town, then paint for several hours. I love painting, so I enjoy it very much even though I paint every day.  
  
"But to get to this point, I had to do a lot of work. In school, after I discovered my passion for art, I took as many art classes as I could. I also saved up money to buy pencils and a sketchpad, and I liked to go to the park and draw whatever I saw. So you all should do whatever you can today to prepare for your future job."  
  
Mrs. Urakawa left the room in silence for a few moments, then opened the class to questions.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I ran home immediately after the school bell rang, as usual. My mother greeted me without a smile as she opened the door and served me a snack of celery sticks and peanut butter.  
  
"How was school today?" she asked, sitting across from me at our simple kitchen table.  
  
"Good. We had a visitor today," I said, grabbing for a celery stick and stuffing it in my mouth.  
  
"Really? What did the visitor talk about?"  
  
"She's an artist."  
  
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Tooya."  
  
"Sorry," I muttered, finishing my bite. "She talked about what she does and how we should plan for when we're adults." Smiling, I asked, "What do you do for a job?"  
  
Then it came. That moment I can't get out of my head.  
  
My mom's bad mood instantly turned worse. "I put food on the table doing what I do, and that's all that matters. It's none of your fucking business what I do at night." And she slapped me.  
  
My body went limp in the chair. "Mom..." I mouth, inaudibly.  
  
She starts crying, the tears making her makeup run. "I'm sorry, honey. Mommy... Mommy's just been having a bad day."  
  
"Mommy?" I asked quietly, looking up at her.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
I remained silent as I spread peanut butter heavily onto a celery stick. "Do you want one? I put on a lotta peanut butter."  
  
"Thanks." My mother took the celery stick and slowly ate it. "Don't bring up my job anymore, okay? Daddy's just been giving me a hard time about it, and I don't want to think about it anymore."  
  
"All right." 


	5. Chapter 5

No matter what my mother did as a profession, she really was a good person. I just have this strong feeling that she never hit me again, and that for the most part, she was the most caring person in my life. So what if she fucked old men for cash? She raised me, nurtured me. She didn't deserve to die so young.  
  
How the hell did she die anyway? I rack my brain, searching for the answer, but none comes. My own mother... and all I know of her is her job and that she's dead. I have one measly little memory of her. One! And I don't even know why it is I'll never be able to make another with her. Mom... I miss you so much.  
  
My eyes grow moist, and my throat becomes choked on tears. Mother... I don't know how you died. I don't even know your name!  
  
Ceres.  
  
The word pops into my head, spoken in my mother's calm, quiet voice.  
  
Ceres.  
  
Mother...? Was that your name?  
  
Ceres.  
  
The name and the image of my mother's face fit together like puzzle pieces.  
  
Ceres. Mother.  
  
But that still doesn't explain how you died, mother... Ceres...  
  
Alec! He told me what little I know of you... He must know more! Excited, I dry my eyes and race to his room.  
  
"Yes?" he asks in response to my knocking.  
  
"Alec... It's Tooya. Can we talk?"  
  
"Sure," he says, opening the door and offering me a seat by his desk. "What is it?"  
  
"I want you to tell me how Ceres died."  
  
"Ceres?"  
  
"My mother," I explain. "I remembered her name."  
  
"I... I can't tell you," Alec stammers.  
  
"You don't know?" A frown shows my hopeless disappointment.  
  
"No. It's just... I don't want to say."  
  
"Alec," I plead, "I want to know. I need to know. Or else..." I try to fight back the tears welling in my eyes. "I can't greive properly," I finish, the tears showing in the sound of my voice.  
  
Alec walks over to me and rests his hand on my shoulder. "Tooya. I understand. But it will be difficult for me to tell you, and even more difficult for you to hear."  
  
I inhale deeply, then utter, "I'm ready. Tell me."  
  
"Your mother was... murdered."  
  
I don't even try to fight the tears this time. "Who did it?!"  
  
Alec begins to cry as well. "I... don't know. There were no witnesses, and the police weren't able to get any leads. I'm sorry."  
  
"You couldn't have helped that," I mutter.  
  
Alec sighs. "It's tragic. She was murdered right in this building, on your first day of college. The whole dormitory... no, the whole school, was in an uproar. To begin a year like that...  
  
"That evening, I found you and said hello. I started talking about how great it was that we could stay best friends even into high school.... And then..." Alec starts to cry again. "You asked who I was. At first I thought you were joking, but then... I realized you didn't even know your own name. I think the trauma of your mother's death wiped your memory away. I explained to you who you were and what you were doing at college. Then I told the doctor about you, and he had you checked into the hospital."  
  
"I remember that. I was so confused about my memory loss that I just signed myself in as soon as the doctor suggested it. I was in there for months before I came back to school, but when I came back, you were there to greet me. I remember how impressed I was that you remembered me because I thought we'd only met once."  
  
"Yeah, I would've told you how long we'd been friends, but for the longest time, you didn't want to hear about your past." Alec paused, then added, "You're taking it very well."  
  
"I don't know how." We both remain silent for a few moments, then I burst out laughing.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I didn't go home for the summer so I could make up credits. And I thought that was the only reason I didn't go home!"  
  
Alec just stares at me blankly.  
  
My laughter quiets and my smile fades. "You're right, that was pretty morbid. It's just ironic that I thought I had a home and mother to return to."  
  
Then, all of a sudden, I visualize the murderer. 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Warnings: Huge amounts of language and non-graphic rape in this chapter. It may be a bit disturbing... I feel a little disturbed after writing this. *sighs* I'm gonna go play Hamtaro to calm my mind... I need it. **This chapter has been updated, thanks to Rai Dorian's helpful comments!**  
  
My father is a narrow-faced, light-skinned man with four red scars on his face. I see him, hands together, knuckles white, gripping onto a small black handgun.  
  
My mother turns around and screams, yelling "Run!" I turn to face my father, then bolt.  
  
My mind blanks, and slowly, panting, I take a look around. I'm in the hallway of the dormitories. Right... I was in Alec's room, and must have ran off when I imagined the murder scene. Suddenly, I remember I have an appointment with Dr. Kagami today. I check my watch. 4:45-- only fifteen minutes until the appointment.  
  
As I walk to Dr. Kagami's office, I begin ruminating over my conversation with Alec and my sudden memory. So my father murdered my mother, and then I lost my memory. Just marvelous. I just knew it'd turn out like this-- not only was my mother a prostitute, she's a freaking dead prostitute. A murdered prostitute. And as if that isn't enough, my own father was the murderer. No wonder I'm so messed up.  
  
Wait a minute. I thought my father was just some pervert. How in the hell was he able to remember some random prostitute he slept with so he could go and murder her eighteen years later? Maybe he was a repeat customer... Sick. And then... How do I know him? I shrug. Maybe he just liked to fuck my mom in front of me. Oh, God... please no... Anything but that. Tell me I'm dreaming! Tell me I'm dreaming this whole thing. My mom is alive, working a nice respectable job, married to my father. A man who would never buy a whore and who wouldn't hurt a fly.  
  
But somehow I know it's all true. Every last sickening, morbid detail. I break down in tears... yet again. Pussy. ...No. Hell no. Think of all the shit you just discovered, I tell myself. You're fucking God to only be crying.   
  
A sudden thought comes to me: How did I remember that that man was my father? I don't have any memories of him... Or do I?  
  
I remember my tenth birthday.  
  
That year, my birthday fell in the middle of the week, so I planned to invite friends the weekend after and celebrate with only my family on my actual birthday. For dinner, my mom prepared my favorite dish, spaghetti. I started wolfing down a large portion of it.  
  
"Don't eat too much, Tooya!" my mom cried, smiling widely.  
  
"But it's spaghetti, mom!"  
  
"I know," she responded, picking up some udon with her chopsticks. "But you'll want to save room in that stomach of yours."  
  
I sat and thought for a split second, then burst out, "Cake! You baked me a cake! Thanks, mom!" I hugged her, then continued eating, more slowly this time.  
  
The dinner passed by quickly and pleasantly, with nothing more than small talk being exchanged between my mom and I.  
  
"All right! I'm finished," I shouted after my second helping.  
  
"Me too," said my father.  
  
My mom nodded, then brought out a small chocolate cake with two large candles in the shape of a one and a zero. My parents sang "Happy Birthday" to me, my mom in tune and my dad horribly off-pitch. Then my mother said, "All right, Tooya! Make a wish!"  
  
I wished for a new swimsuit, then blew out the candles. My mother cut the cake, and handed the first slice to me. I remember in vivid detail the soft, warm texture of my first bite.  
  
After cake, I headed for bed and lay comfortably under my sheets.  
  
But I couldn't sleep. Across the thin wall between me and my parents' room, an ear-shattering racket kept me awake.  
  
"Ceres... Are you just gonna fall asleep on me?" my dad asked, lust heavy in his voice.  
  
"Not tonight," she yawned. "I'm worn out with preparing for Tooya's birthday. Tomorrow night."  
  
"All you did was cook shit."  
  
"Listen. It's very tiring to have to go to the store and cook after a long night of work."  
  
"You sleep with other guys all night, then don't have the energy for me? You cheating little whore!"  
  
"Honey, you know I only do that to support this family."  
  
"Why the hell are YOU the one supporting the family? Get in your God-damned place and let the man make the money."  
  
My mother sighed. "I promise you... Once you get a job again, I'll stop. But for now, I have to put food on the table."  
  
"You cost me my fucking job!"  
  
"I know..." my mother admitted, her voice choked in tears. "I just wanted you to be home for our aniversary... I didn't know you'd get fired for missing work."  
  
"You knew it, bitch!"  
  
"I didn't. I should have been able to predict it..."  
  
"Now fuck me."  
  
"I already told you! Tomorrow night!"  
  
"You fucking whore! Do as I say!" Seconds later, I hear clothes ripping and then my father moaning and my mother screaming.  
  
"Stop it! Dammit! I told you to stop!"  
  
"Shut the fuck up, bitch. I know you're enjoying this. It's all you're good for. That's why you became a fucking whore and let this family down."  
  
"I did NOT let this family down... Ahh... Slow down!" She let out an ear-piercing scream. "THAT DOESN'T MEAN SPEED UP!"  
  
"Come on, whores love it fast, don't ya, bitch?"  
  
"You're... making... me... bleed..." My mother's voice was slow and strained.  
  
"You're not bleeding. I'll show you what bleeding is!" I hear the smack of my father's fist slamming into my mother's nose.  
  
"Gah..."  
  
"Now get off the bed. You'll make a mess when I'm sleeping."  
  
I hear the sheets rustle and my mother heading to the bathroom. 


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you so much for the constructive criticism, Rai Dorian! I've updated this chapter as well, and it's looking a lot better ^_^  
  
When that happened, I didn't know what was going on--- just that it was BAD. After it happened, I stayed awake through the entire night, crying, trying to make sense of what had just happened. My knowledge of rape was so slim that I wouldn't be able to recognize it... and all I thought "whore" meant was a derogatory name for any woman.  
  
At about four in the morning, when both my parents were sound asleep, I got out of bed to find a way to release my anger. I walked to the bathroom, so distressed that I slammed my fist into the concrete walls. My skin tore, and blood streamed from my hand. I spent the rest of the night dabbing my hand with toilet paper to stop the bleeding. Only now do I realize that after punching the wall, I didn't think at all of what my father did to my mother, only of the blood across my knuckles and of the searing pain through my entire hand.  
  
I break out of the trance because I've arrived at Dr. Kagami's office and he is now telling me he's ready for my appointment. I follow him back to his now-familiar office and take a seat.  
  
"I've been through a lot this week," I say slowly.  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
"So many memories have come back to me. Awful ones. First, I remembered a day in elementary school. This lady came to my class to talk about careers, and then I went home and asked my mom what she did, and she... she slapped me."  
  
Kagami wrote it all down, then responded, "I'm so sorry. No matter how difficult a parent's life is, she should never have the right to hit her child. Was this a pattern?"  
  
I pause to recollect my thoughts. "I don't think so. Even though she hit me once and she was a prostitute, I think she was a fairly good mother." I take a deep breath. "I think the real problem is my dad."  
  
"Oh? And what do you know of him?"  
  
"Too much."  
  
We remain silent for a minute as I struggle for a way to tell him what I know.  
  
"Is it difficult to talk about?"  
  
I nod.  
  
"If you don't want to talk about it, it can wait. But I am here to listen and to be supportive of you."  
  
I swallow, in hopes of calming the butterflies in my stomach. It works well enough for me to begin speaking. "He..." Tears flow from my eyes. "He murdered... my mother..."  
  
"Tooya! That's just... awful!"  
  
"That's not even the worst of it. I... I remembered in detail... This one time that my dad..." Another gulp. "...raped my mom."  
  
Tears well up in Dr. Kagami's eyes as well. "Tooya... Thank you for sharing that with me. It takes a lot of courage to speak of something like that."  
  
"Thank you," I mutter.  
  
"I'm very glad you're in therapy, getting the help you need to get over your past. If there's anything you want of me, don't hesitate to ask. I'm only here to make your life more manageable." He pauses, then changes the subject, "A lot of people with histories like yours go on to be sexual predators. I'm happy that you came into therapy instead of acting on your anger."  
  
Ugh. I DID act on my anger. I raped her. I fucking raped Aya! ...I'm no better than my dad. I'm just a pathetic little creep. Look at the pain I'm in from just hearing my mother getting raped--- imagine what Aya must be going through, actually having BEEN raped. I can't believe what I've done... God, I'm so sorry. I ask for one favor, and one favor only. It's not forgiveness... All I wish is that the hurt I've done to Aya is undone... somehow...  
  
Right. I'm in a therapy session now. I've got to talk to him. "I had always assumed that I was just the product of my mother's... er... business... Yet the memory I've uncovered of my father makes it seem like he lived with me. That that bastard had the... audacity to marry my mother." I flew into a rage, and my tone of voice did nothing to hide it. "She was my fucking mother! You had no right to ruin her life... then take it from her! I barely know who the hell she was, and thanks to you, I never will..." I began to sob. "She had a child to raise and was doing the damn best she could at raising him, then you just fucking ruin it all! If you want to ruin your own life, go ahead. But don't ruin mine... my mother's... Aya's..." Suddenly, I become aware of Dr. Kagami's presence. "I'm sorry..."  
  
"Don't be. This is a very healthy way to vent your feelings, Tooya."  
  
"I'm done, anyway. At least for now."  
  
"Yelling seems to work very well for you."  
  
I crack a smile. "Yeah, I guess." I sigh. "I've learned this all only in the past few days. My best friend, Alec, knows some of my past, since he knew me since elementary school. But I never let him tell me because I was afraid what might have happened in my past. I... I never imagined it could be like this."  
  
"But it is, and you have to face it because it's the truth. Know that people will always be there for you. Like me and this friend of yours... Alec, you said?"  
  
"Yes. Alec." After a long pause, I continue, "I wish I hadn't asked about my past. I've uncovered so many painful memories."  
  
"In time, you will uncover joyful ones as well."  
  
"Yeah... I guess there was some joy in my memories... I got to know how long I've been friends with Alec... I got to know what kind of a person my mother was. After all, if I hadn't had these memories, I would never know who my own mother was. It's just... painful... to know how it all ended. It hurts so much inside knowing that I had the kind of dad who would murder his own wife... I don't even know why he did it. Was he just some sort of sadistic bastard?" My voice was slow, pained, and wistful. "Wait a minute," the words burst out. "I'm remembering something new." 


	8. Chapter 8

"I was walking to the store with my dad one evening... I looked around at my surroundings, as I always do, and saw identical apartment buildings, narrow dark alleyways, and countless prostitutes. Such was my reality, and I had long grown used to it. A blue Honda Civic sped towards us, litter flying away from its tires. The car screeched to a stop at a red light, and a blond teenage girl in the passenger seat stuck her head out the window, pointed to one of the prostitutes, and cried, 'Look at that woman! She's so beautiful... She's like an angel!'"  
  
All of a sudden, I gasp, then sit silently, my mouth agape.  
  
"Yes?" asks Dr. Kagami.  
  
"That girl... She was Aya... My ex-girlfriend." I pause, then shake the feeling off. "Heh. Based on her age, that must have been the summer right before I came here for college. Anyway, back to my story."  
  
Dr. Kagami nods, gesturing for me to continue.  
  
"I followed her finger and saw that she was pointing at none other than..." A lump appears in my throat, and I swallow in a failed attempt to rid myself of it. Ignoring the lump, I continue in slightly strained speech, "...my mother." The image of her face at that moment lingers in my mind. Her contours so smooth; her expression calm yet seductive. Just like in Aya's painting. It all comes together now... Why Aya's painting looks exactly like my mother. Aya was so enchanted by her beauty in that moment that she had to paint her. I get a sudden urge to see that painting... I have no photos of her, none of her keepsakes... The painting is the only thing there is left to remember her by.  
  
But I'm in Dr. Kagami's office right now. I'll get back to the painting afterwards; I have to finish telling Dr. Kagami my memory. "My mother... She was dressed like a typical prostitute, in almost nothing, and was hitting on a young woman. My father's eyes followed my own, saw the same scene, and then he spat on the ground. 'What the fuck does she think she's doing?' he muttered under his breath, his voice slowly crescendoing. I involuntarily trembled as he began to scream. 'That bitch! It's bad enough that she's a fucking whore... But I never knew she'd go and sell herself to a woman!'  
  
"Somewhere out of my fear, I found my love for my mother. In an instant, it reigned over my entire being, and I could think of nothing but defending what little self-respect remained in her wounded soul. 'Dad...' I whisper into his ear. 'Calm down. You know she doesn't feel anything for that woman, and she's only doing it to hold us over until you find another job.' My dad hadn't had a job for as long as I could remember and wasn't even looking for one, but the last time I had mentioned that- maybe when I was twelve or thirteen- he hit me. So from then on, I made it a habit to pretend he actually was looking for work.  
  
"He responded with yet more anger. 'I don't give a fuck WHY she's sleeping with women. All I care about is that she IS sleeping with them. It's sick, disgusting, immoral.' As if screaming at your wife and beating and raping her aren't, I thought. 'Listen, Dickhead.' Ah, yes, Dickhead. That was his name for me. 'Why do you think you're such a moron? It's because you have a fucking dyke for a mother.'  
  
"Injured by his harsh words, I grew afraid again. 'Dad...' I whispered hesitantly.  
  
"'What is it, Dickhead?' he asked.  
  
"I searched my brain for something to defend Mom, and quickly came up with an idea. 'Mom hasn't ever just come home pregnant. Don't you think it's a good thing that she isn't with men?'  
  
"'Fuck no. Who cares if she's got to take care of more little bastards? She deserves it. What part of 'your mother is a fucking lesbian whore' do you not understand?'"  
  
"Dear God..." gasped Dr. Kagami. "How could he be so insensitive? What's worse... to his own wife and child..."  
  
I sigh. "It's not surprising at all... He's extremely sexist. He thought of my mother as his fucking slave, and me as..." Tears well up in my eyes. "...a burden."  
  
"Don't you ever think of yourself that way. I think you're an amazing person. Think about it: you have the strength to deal with everything that's happened, and you're smart enough to get help. You're a wonderful friend, a good student, and a cherished son."  
  
Confusion crosses over my eyes. "Cherished son...?"  
  
"Your mother cherished you, did she not?"  
  
"Oh... yeah, you're right. Me and my mother... We really bonded, and loved each other a lot."  
  
"You deserved your mother's love."  
  
"...Thank you."  
  
Dr. Kagami carefully changed the subject. "Always keep that in mind over the following week." Clearing his throat, he continued on, "Our time is up. Shall I see you again the same time next week?"  
  
I nod, standing up, then head back to my dormitory. As I plod along, a browning flower bud along the path, killed by a frost, catches my attention. Such an innocent bud, murdered by the harsh reality of nature. And for what? So the frost could have another victim? Or worse... Simply because the frost makes sport of killing young buds?  
  
Just as my father exterminated my mother? And suddenly, I hear him saying just why.  
  
"That fucking dyke deserves to die." 


	9. Chapter 9

Troubled, I pull my pace up to a powerwalk so that I can reach my room and get my father out of my head. The familiar brick dormitory building quickly comes into view. I open the heavy door and proceed to the elevator. A sudden sharp chill races up my spine. I brush it off, knowing that this happens every time I wait for the elevator.  
  
But this time it's somehow different. I struggle within myself to find the explanation. Then I realize it. I know why the chills always come.  
  
*****  
  
"Whew!" My mom set down a bulging suitcase and sat on it, the folds of her white skirt falling over the worn cloth surface of the suitcase. "Let's sit down and wait for your father here."  
  
I nodded, setting down my own suitcase and the overflowing backpack I wore beside the elevator. Then I unzipped my backpack, removing some paperwork. "I think my room is on the third floor."  
  
A few minutes of silence followed until my mother commented, "He's taking a while. He must be having trouble finding a parking spot."  
  
In the same instant, the door opened and my father's figure, burdened by yet another large suitcase, neared. His face displayed an obvious attempt at calmness to cover up a strained, secretive expression.  
  
"You all right dad?" I asked, barely looking up.  
  
He offered me no answer as he dragged the suitcase up beside my mother's suitcase, trapping a fold of her dress between the two pieces of luggage.  
  
In a flash, his arm reached into his jacket as if to scratch his chest, and pulled out the family handgun. As if he had practiced it, his arm swiftly brought the small firearm to my mother's smooth, delicate forehead. "Lesbian whore," he grunted in an eerily calm, deep voice.  
  
Both my mother's and my instincts came into action at the same instant. I darted away from the scene to behind a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner of the room, not daring to make a sound, not even that of my much-needed breathing. I noticed my mother trying to stand up, but getting the hem of her skirt caught on the rusted handle of my father's suitcase. Hidden behind the high pile of cardboard boxes, I saw no more.  
  
As soon as I found safety, my heart leapt into my throat. I was certain that my dad had pulled the trigger. My eyes shot wide open, unable to water. My thought process blanked, but was jolted back into reality as the sound of the gun firing shattered my ears.  
  
"Serves you right, bitch. Ya got what you deserve," he spat out scornfully. The soft unmistakable thud of him carelessly kicking my mother's corpse followed. Then, "Damn it, Dickhead! Where the fuck'd you go?"  
  
I remained silent, refusing to grant my brain its much needed oxygen. Had I wanted to breathe, I couldn't have, for my entire body was literally paralyzed in fear. I doubt my heart even risked a beat.  
  
My father's footsteps pounded on the floor. A door slammed. Growing fainter, then finally stopping. My brain was too starved to connect the fading footsteps to my father leaving.  
  
A black, calming mist neared, then slowly encircled my soul, enveloping it in its smooth, flowing vinyl sheets. Around and around, floating through my body, then setting it down to rest.  
  
*****  
  
I began to stir, my eyes fluttering open, then scanning my surroundings. Bright light blinded me for a moment, but soon my eyes adjusted and saw a high pile of cardboard boxes and a plain plaster wall. Where was I? What was I doing here?  
  
My hands pushed the boxes aside, revealing several men in badged uniforms, examining an area surrounded by yellow tape.  
  
One turned in response to the sound of falling boxes, then peered at me. "Were you here the whole time?"  
  
I had no idea how long I'd been here. "I dunno. I.... I guess I was taking a nap."  
  
He jotted something onto a notebook, muttering, "This sounds fishy." He looked back up at me, and asked, "I'm going to have to question you for evidence. Come with you."  
  
"Uh..... okay," I said dumbly, trailing behind the man. He lead me outside towards a large black and white object.  
  
"Go ahead." He motioned toward it.  
  
"What am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Get in the car, please."  
  
So that was a car. But how to get in it? "I don't think there's a way in," I replied, eyeing the clearly opaque car.  
  
The man sighed, then put his hand to a small piece of it. Simply by pulling on the object, he created an opening to an intricately designed interior. Then he walked around the car, opening the other side of it and sitting down on a comfortable looking cushion. I followed suit, entering through the opening closest to me and sitting down beside him.  
  
"Here, pull on that handle there," he motioned to something protruding from the side of the car, "to close the door." I followed his instructions, amazed at how easy it was.  
  
The man fumbled in his pocket, sticking a metal device into a hole in the car, creating a most unusual noise. All of a sudden, we begin to move, accellerating quickly and proceeding at an astonishing speed. Like a baby on his first car ride, I looked out the window (I did not know it was a window then), absorbing everything we passed.  
  
The car slowed, and the man prompted me out of it and into and through yet another familiar structure.  
  
"All right, we're in my office," the man stated, sitting down. "You can sit on that chair over there." He motioned to an object similar to the one he was sitting in. I slowly sat down. "Now let's get started. What is your name?"  
  
"My name?" I ask, confused.  
  
"Yes, for evidence. You just appeared out of nowhere right in the crime scene. So I'll be needing your first and last name."  
  
"My name is..." I suddenly realized I had no clue what my name was. How strange... Don't all people have names?  
  
"Sir, please answer the question," requested the man forcefully.  
  
"I... I don't know." 


	10. Chapter 10

I was reborn as a mere infant, without even a concept of who I was. Yet here I am, all grown up in only a year, reconnected with my past life. I've come so far in so little time... One year. I've regained my memories, come to remember the love that my mother and I shared, and partially come to terms with the atrocities that my father committed.  
  
Atrocities that he committed, then got away with. He swore at my mom, and she never could do anything but cry. He beat and raped her, and she never had the chance to fight back. He killed her, and she hadn't enough time to run. And I just hid. Leaving her to die alone.  
  
And then, through some stroke of luck, or perhaps a deal with the devil, he ran off before the attendant at the desk even knew what was going on. My father escaped from it all unscathed, leaving nothing but a corpse behind. Not even a fingerprint.  
  
Such is the cruelty of fate... The police took me in for evidence, saying that I was the only witness... And until recently, I refused to know what they were talking about. And now my father is out, free, beating and raping and killing countless more angelicly caring women.  
  
Wait a minute. I remember. I can stop him now. All it takes is one little trip to the police station. "Hello. You took me in as a witness of a murder a year ago, and I didn't remember who the murderer was. He was my father... He continually abused my mother, physically and sexual, then killed her because she was a lesbian."  
  
I will not wait even a day. It took only a second for him to pull the trigger on my mother. Any second now, he could take another victim. An innocent, foolish victim.  
  
Like Aya.  
  
Oh, shit. I break down in tears, remembering how I took Aya. Am I no better than my father? Will I end up taking the next step and... I gulp. Kill her? I could never do that... Could I? I'm not that heartless, am I? I'm a good person... right?  
  
Good person, my ass. I fucking raped her. If I can somehow bring myself to rape a girl, I may end up losing it and kill her. I'm a disgusting, morally drained pervert... Who deserves to be locked up.  
  
I shiver, imagining spending ten years of my life in a cold, filthy jail cell with some homicidal stranger as a roommate.  
  
Fuck that, Tooya. You're not only a rapist, you're fucking selfish. You mentally scarred an innocent girl... What is living in prison for a few years compared to that? Stop being so self-centered and go to jail.  
  
Yes... While I bring evidence to the police, I will turn myself in. I WILL.  
  
But before that, I must say good-bye to my life here. I take out a pad of paper, and start scribbling a note.  
  
~To my best friend Alec: I must say farewell to you. You have been a wonderful friend, but I have been a terrible person. I raped my girlfriend, and after I go to confess, I will probably spend several years in prison. I will always remember you. Tooya.  
  
And Aya. I've never told her I was sorry... I start a new page, taking care in picking out my every word.  
  
~I know you don't want to hear anything from me at all, but I must tell you that I am truly sorry for what I did to you. I cannot believe what I did, and I know how much it must have deeply scarred you. If I could go back and change my actions, I would change them in an instant, even if I had to end my life to do it. But as I cannot do that, I must instead do anything in my power to reverse my actions. I have taken the first step by apologizing from the bottom on my heart, but immediately after I finish this letter, I will head to the police station and confess.  
  
~I also urge you get into therapy if you have not done so already. What I have done to you can destroy you emotionally and burden you for your entire life. The last thing you need is to suffer alone for something you didn't deserve nor even put on yourself.  
  
~And lastly, never EVER forgive me. I do not deserve forgiveness. I was sick and evil to hurt you. I was sick and evil to hide it over these several months. I was sick and evil to never apologize until now. I deserve to pay out my punishment, then to devote the rest of my life to stopping more people from turning into me and ruining the lives of innocents like you. Do not see me as honorable for turning myself in, for my deed was so wrong that nothing can fully undo it.  
  
~To your own beautiful angel Aya.  
  
~Forever sorry,  
  
~Tooya.  
  
By the end of the letter, I am bursting out in free tears, a pile of soft white, crumpled up, dirtied tissues. I seal the letters, wipe my tears, take a deep breath, and take that final step out the door, ready to meet my destiny. 


	11. Author's Notes

Wow! I've finished the sequel to My Angel! Thank you so much, Rai Dorian and Blissful Trinity for sticking through with me the whole time and for your never-ending support. I hope you, and any other readers, have enjoyed the stories.  
  
I do NOT have any intention to make another sequel, although I have thought about some ideas. I considered that maybe years later, Aya and Tooya meet again and fall in love. (Real love this time.) Sound a little bit idealistic or over-romantic? I thought so... Which is why I threw the idea out. I've also thought more about returning to Chidori, Yuuhi, and Aki. While they're very sweet and innocent, that's the exact problem. A story about them would have no substance whatsoever. I suppose I could create problems for them, but I want them to remain pure, and even ignorant.  
  
So it all boils down to me having no good ideas for a sequel, so, plain and simple, I will not write one. I don't see any point in making another sequel just to have a sequel.  
  
I would be interested in any sort of comments about the story. Parts you liked? Parts you didn't like? Deeper meanings you drew out of it? And by the end, did you like Tooya or hate him? I personally liked him right from the start (but then again... I knew the end of Rebirth when I was partway through My Angel). I liked turning him into a "good rapist" (quite an oxymoron there)  
  
Did you think my portrayal of Tooya's amnesia was realistic at all? I did no research whatsoever on it cause... quite frankly, I'm too lazy. I've never been exposed to it, so I doubt I even came close to what real amnesia is like. Oh well. If it isn't realistic, Tooya just became the first person to get that kind of amnesia. 


End file.
